like a bull with its horns

I am sometimes kind of abrasive.
Sometimes I sound angrier than I am.

(Most of the time I'm just scared.)

In a bit, I'll be done school and I'll just take conversational french classes, make tonnes of zines, wear braids most of the time, bake and cook delicious vegan food, read excellent books, work a sweet minimum wage job, and hang out with my mom. That sounds pretty good to me.
So Saskatoon, if I come back in like half a year, would you put in a good word for me at the theatre I used to work at?

Toronto, I love you, promise. You're what I needed, f'sho. My mom said to me on the phone:
"Maybe you need a year of feeling sad and lonely and uncertain about your life,"
and I thought: Fuck yeah (not ironic or sarcastic)!

So, yes. I can probably survive.